Will Smith (52) and I share the same fate.
The other day he openly admitted on the Internet: “I’m in the worst shape of my life.” And I’ve also put on a few pandemic pounds.
Compliments to my wife’s culinary skills. But she recently sent me to the vegetable department of a supermarket in Los Angeles. At the salad bar I spotted a guy with a cap and sunglasses: Will Smith, that’s true! He looks into my basket: “Green juice diet?” I nod: “Wife’s order.”
Smith laughs uproariously: “You are like me!” Celery and fresh peas wander into Will’s car while he admits, “I’m so used to eating donuts and pancakes in the morning.”
He looks at me seriously. “But that’s the end of it now,” says Smith. “I want to lose weight.”
The Hollywood star gives me the motivation fist, then he quickly moves on to the checkout, a few fans have noticed him. “Hold on, Frank!” Will calls out and grins. “The diet really helps.”
Well my wife hopes so too.